


Easy Street

by carsneedle



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, What's the opposite of angst with a happy ending?, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:08:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23745079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carsneedle/pseuds/carsneedle
Summary: Caring about others was what had made her strong. He hated that it was also what drove her to think that she had to be alone like this. Daryl didn’t have the right words to tell her what she needed to hear.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Easy Street

Daryl couldn’t have begun to describe what he felt as he stood at the door of the small house. The sound of his knock on the door echoed into the quiet around. He watched a range of emotions go across Carol’s face. Surprise, anger at being found, sadness. Relief, or maybe even happiness at seeing him again. He wondered when he’d stopped just tolerating hugs as he pressed his face into her shoulder. He was so grateful to see her back in her boots and not in one of those ridiculous cardigans.

The house was warm, and it smelled like she’d been baking. It reminded him of the way she’d fixed up Dale’s RV, trying to make something nice for Sophia to come back to.

Caring about others was what had made her strong. He hated that it was also what drove her to think that she had to be alone like this. Daryl didn’t have the right words to tell her what she needed to hear. 

That she was incredible, brave. That her family needed her. That he needed her. That he wouldn’t let her lose herself. 

So instead he pressed his lips softly to hers, fulfilling a wish he’d never dared acknowledged.

Her skin was so soft, even the scars she let him trace over. She brushed his long hair away from his face. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he kissed the freckles along her collar bone. Her fingers brushed his cheek and he looked up to see her smiling at him.

“You’re good,” he whispered. Her face looked skeptical. “You made me better,” he whispered into the warmth of her neck. 

“I can’t go back,” she said, turned away from him. Her hand was tight around his, not that he would have let go. 

“We can just stay here,” he said. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this relaxed. Not since everything. Maybe not even before. “Where you go, I go.”

The music jolted him back awake, his face pressed to the cold floor in a patch of dried blood.

**Author's Note:**

> And we're breaking out the good champagne  
> We're sitting pretty on the gravy train


End file.
